


Remains

by kirbyfanclub



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dissociation, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, as in: jon doesnt know how to eat like a person anymore, assuming jm live. which i find unlikely... like... its not just gonna b London or Scotland again., so. this, while listening to mag173 i was like... hey what will the world b like after they win?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirbyfanclub/pseuds/kirbyfanclub
Summary: When the Fears fall and the Panopticon crumbles, the world remains desolate. It is a wasteland. Those who survived, who the monsters of the night, flesh, and lies waited too long to consume, wander aimlessly, confused and broken. The dry Earth below them no longer screams, for it has been drained. The world is without terror, but is it dead.On the stoop of the Panopticon’s remains, Jonathan Sims, no longer the Archivist, watches the vast expanse with blank expectation.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King (mentioned), Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	Remains

**Author's Note:**

> tw for: discussion of weight/weight loss, disordered eating habits, canon character deaths, paranoia

When the Fears fall and the Panopticon crumbles, the world remains desolate. It is a wasteland. Those who survived, who the monsters of the night, flesh, and lies waited too long to consume, wander aimlessly, confused and broken. The dry Earth below them no longer screams, for it has been drained. The world is without terror, but is it dead. 

On the stoop of the Panopticon’s remains, Jonathan Sims, no longer the Archivist, watches the vast expanse with blank expectation. He waits for a tumbleweed to roll across the horizon, whimsically letting himself pretend this is all some American Western. A natural arid biome, one that was supposed to be there. His eyes, brown, dark, are unfocused as he gazes. His eyesight yearns for his glasses, abandoned years ago now within the drawers of his old flat. He has not been able to See in weeks. He’s thankful for the Eye’s absence, and yet, he misses its painfully overwhelming clarity. Now, his body has been stuffed full of cotton, and he almost forgets that this reality is not a dream. 

He aimlessly thinks about Georgie, wondering if this is how she has lived. He wonders if she is looking out at her own horizon, Melanie’s head in her lap, eyes as tired and unfocused as Jon’s are now.

“Did you eat today?” Martin’s soft voice rings through the silence, extracting Jon from the emptiness. His freckled brow is sweaty from attempting to tame the barren soil around them. It yields a little to his gentle fingers, but most things it offers up to them are as dry and exhausted as the dirt.

“Not yet, no.”

Martin sighs, and settles next to Jon. The wood creaks under his weight. He was always solid in a way Jon has never been, but Jon knows they’ve both grown thinner, unhealthier. He fears for the day when Martin no longer can envelop him in his warmth, if he even makes it to see that day. Jon doesn’t have the reserve of strength Martin’s large body does, did, nor does he have the will to commit once more to the cycles of being human.

He doesn’t eat fear anymore. He can’t. He isn’t made of it anymore, and it no longer offers him nourishment. Even if he could, there isn’t much to find in these lands. The two men have not seen another soul since Jonah Magnus burned.

Jon cringes, knowing he is disappointing and frightening Martin. 

“You know you need to.”

“Yes. I know.”

The conversation ends, and Jon doesn’t lie. He does know he needs to. He needs to eat, he needs to stand up from the stoop. He needs to go to the meager garden and help Martin coax out long-buried roots and seeds into something sustainable. He needs to do many things, and deep in his soul, he wants to do them. He wants to hold Martin close at night like he used to, and he wants to bury his head in Martin’s chest and  _ squeeze _ , remind him that they survived and they won and that they are in love.

But more than all that, he wants to continue to gaze at the horizon, expecting a tumbleweed that will never come.

–––––––––––------

They  _ are _ in love. It’s one of the few things Jon is able to confidently depend on, when Martin is sleeping through the night, stomach grumbling and surroundings swaying in the listless wind.

They didn’t have the tools for proper house construction. They live in the bottom of the Panopticon, the part which wasn’t crushed when it all came falling down. Candlelight flickers next to their bed, reflecting against the same white stone that once made up the Magnus Institute. The first night, when they had felt the need to sleep for the first time since Daisy’s cottage, they had both struggled to stay still under the cold, unforgiving stone. They remembered being huddled in the storage room, in Jon’s office, Jane Prentiss, the Stranger, the Slaughter, the Eye banging down their door. Michael, then Helen, appearing from the floor, the ceiling, the walls. When his eyelids fell, Jon could swear in the final millisecond he saw them all, bursting through the brick towards their skin. Carved eyes peering out from where they lie unseen and subtle in their placement.

He recalls the haunted tomb of Johann von Württemberg, and curls closer to Martin before he succumbs to sleep.

He did not fully expect to wake again when he fell asleep that night. Yet, hours later, he woke, still face to face with the man he loved, the sky outside quiet and eyeless. He cried as he listened to Martin’s breathing, steady and slow with slumber, knowing that it was all over. That they had ended what he started. And now, the world would redefine itself on its own terms. Fearless. Stronger. Kinder. 

Empty.

–––––––––––------

Martin stands up from their perch, stretching his shoulders until he hears the pop. He stands next to Jon for a moment, observing the skyline, trying to find something worth looking at for this long. 

“I’m going to make dinner,” Martin says.  _ Please eat it with me  _ goes unsaid, but Jon knows it’s there as if he could still See after all. Martin pauses for a moment to brush his hand over Jon’s messy hair, a warm presence once more clearing out Jon’s foggy mind. He runs his fingers gently through the grayed curls before turning to enter the building.

“Wait.” Jon catches his hand and pulls himself up with him. Martin’s eyes widen a bit. Jon figures he must have expected Jon to stay outside until being pulled to bed, as he had most nights. Jon reaches his other arm around Martin’s neck, holding him close, trying to convey silently that Jon will be by his side, that he is trying so hard to be present enough to do so.

“I’ll help you,” he whispers into Martin’s neck. Martin, as always, clutches him tight, the pressure stinging Jon’s skin awake beneath his worn sweater. Martin’s hands, calloused and large, stay strong and loving against the narrow bones of Jon’s back, rubbing up and down his spine. Martin’s warmth is the one part of this world that feels the same. The one part that keeps Jon wanting to be the same as he was before it all ended.

They unfold and walk hand-and-hand to the Panopticon’s kitchen– their kitchen. The dirt in Martin’s garden may be dry, but it manages to produce half-decent potatoes and herbs. Side by side, Martin and Jon prepare a simple meal of the harvest and the remaining Scottish rations. Potato soup. A bit of parsley, and the meat of an elderly rabbit who evaded the Hunt.

They sit at a small circular table, where they might have once sat before, with Tim or Sasha or Daisy, in silence or friendly banter. Tonight, they sit alone, in the ruined world they survived, and they eat.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so curious to see where tma ends, and what happens to this world and its inhabitants. cmon jonny letsa go!!!!!! i wrote this in a couple hours following listening 2 the new ep so apologizes for any errors! grammarly is my only ho


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